Kum Miji’s Oath that Shaped a Legacy

Kum Miji one day set out at dawn when the world was still half asleep, and the hills had just woken up from their deep sleep. He went in search of a fowl in the distant parts of a neighbouring village. One of his sons was unwell, so he didn’t wait too long for help to arrive or for company. Instead, he decided to venture out on his own. In those days, it was advisable not to roam the unknown terrains and to stay away from the uncharted paths. Between the mountains and in the less-travelled roads, where silence ruled and stillness prevailed.

The roads wound their way toward the rugged terrain of Tisso Anglong, a land steeped in myth and mystery. The Tisso were once feared, untamed beings, creatures of the wilderness that stirred awe and caution in equal measure. Legends say that the Ejang clan – one of the principal clans of the Karbis – was once incomplete and was missing a vital member. To restore the balance, the Tisso were brought into the fold. Over time, they became fully assimilated into the Ejang clan, and gave rise to four subclans – Tisso Rongchitim, Tisso Rongphu, Tisso Rongling, and Tisso Motho. In this story, we will mention the wild, untamed beings, not the subclans of the Ejang.

Well, coming back to where we left off!

Kum Miji had left in haste; he carried almost nothing. The only weapon he had brought with him, meant for emergencies like frightening away wild animals, or the wandering untamed spirits, or even the Tisso, was a machete. His jamborong, the traditional woven bag he never travelled without, was slung across his shoulder. Inside the bag, as always, were thap, the yeast cake needed to ferment rice and make the alcoholic drink hor, and bongkrok, the hollowed-out bottle gourd shell necessary for ceremonies. He also carried his cherished single-string violin, the kum lieng. Fortunately, he soon came upon what he had been searching for. A fowl, just the right one to be offered in sacrifice to appease the Arnam Pharo, the hundred gods, the deities whose blessing his ailing son desperately needed.

The sun was retreating, quietly paving the way for the night to descend. The hills of Tisso Anglong were already swallowing the last light of the day. Darkness had begun to spill over the foothills, enveloping the landscape in shadow. Kum Miji’s footsteps quickened, urged by an instinctive pull toward home. The roads lay deserted, no soul in sight, no voice in the air, only the silence and the stillness of twilight reigned. The eeriness of it sent a chill down Kum Miji’s spine, but he braved it and his legs carried forward his fearful soul as his ailing son awaited him at home.

‘Ingnam ateke mute aning arlo ateke ahir domu.’ The words of a Karbi saying drifted through him like wind through the hushing of the leaves. The tiger that lurks in thought is deadlier than the one in the forest. Fear imagined can wound deeper than any claw or fang. Kum Miji heeded this age-old wisdom and refused to let the fear in his mind anchor his steps. He placed his worries in the hands of the Hem Angtar, the household deities. With a determined heart, his bare feet quickened with every step and hurried along the shadowed paths.

‘Teke parno edung sido,’ the Karbis also believed, that what one fears most is often what comes to pass. And lo, a form! As though the shadows themselves had given fear a shape. Kum Miji saw a pair of Tisso on a giant fig tree, hanging from the branches with their legs swinging lazily. They were living shadows in the dark, lounging silhouettes etched against the fading light, as though waiting for Kum Miji to arrive. A mischievous curl tugged at the corner of their lips at the sight of a breathing human. They didn’t leap down or snarl at him, yet the air around Kum Miji thickened, charged with an unsettlingly playful menace.

No matter how hard Kum Miji tried to hide his fear, his feet wobbled every time he took a step. His breath trembled. His heart pounded faster than the drums at Chomangkan, the funeral ceremony. He was covered in a cold sweat, and his choi hongthor was sticking to his back and chest. In this wilderness, if he screamed for help, no one would arrive. His voice would be devoured by the thickness of the forest. Not even echo would return. Calling on the Hem Angtar, and clutching on to the last threads of hope, he straightened his back, put on a brave face and marched forward to meet the unblinking gaze of the wild Tisso. Seeing Kum Miji carrying a musical instrument, their eyes gleamed brighter than before. One of them addressed him in an unsettling whisper, low but audible enough to catch Kum Miji’s attention.

‘Kum Miji!’ The female beast’s voice hissed and curled down the branches like a viper. ‘Bless our ears, too! We have heard that the tunes flowing from your kum lieng are magical.’

They rose slowly from where they were perched, their movements fluid and feline, and balanced on the thick bough as effortlessly as shadows. A smirk stretched their lips, and a low groan rumbled into something almost like a snarl and vibrated through the leaves.

‘Tonight, let’s see who wins,’ said the male Tisso, tilting its head in predatory amusement. ‘Let’s see who is better. You … or us? You will play till your last functioning finger, and we will dance till our toes burn with the friction.’

The branches quivered under their weight as both leaned forward, their voices now merging into one chilling decree. ‘If you win, you will go home untouched, and our shadows will not haunt you anymore. But if we win…’ Their smiles got wider than before as they said, ‘We will eat you alive!’

The beasts exchanged another smile, quick, sharp and knowing that Kum Miji had fallen into their trap. They slowly sank to their earlier position. They began swinging their scrawny, hairy legs, once more dangling from the branches barely reflecting their excitement, faster than before.

Hearing the words of the beasts, Kum Miji’s heart leapt to his throat. A cold shiver rippled through him. ‘I just pray that tonight I can somehow manage to go home,’ he murmured to himself. ‘My son is not well.’

He looked up at the sky. Daylight was gradually fading.

‘It is going to be dark soon,’ he thought to himself. ‘If I waste my time thinking it will soon be pitch dark. Win or lose, in other words, if I live or become their food tonight, this evening is all I shall have.’

Without wasting another moment, he prepared himself for the musical battle that was about to begin. Under the pretext of taking a break to roll tobacco for a smoke, he  slipped out his bongkrok from his jamborong and said his quiet prayers to the Hem Angtar to keep him safe and unharmed. He then sat down, tuning the string of the kum lieng. When the string was finally tightened to perfection, he drew in a breath and started playing. Musical notes poured out into the hills only to be lost in the cold wilderness. He played the finest tunes he had ever learned, tunes rising and falling like the sea waves. Each note carried his fear, his hope and the desperate longing to return home to his son.

The pair of wild beasts danced above him. They twirled and stomped atop the branches of the tree. Their silhouettes glided vigorously from one branch to another against the pale sky. They did not descend, nor did they look tired. Instead, they danced with such joy that it bordered on a feverish delight.

Every time Kum Miji paused to catch his breath, they screeched down at him, ‘Kum Miji, tired? Have you accepted your fate so soon?’

They sprang from branch to branch, came close to Kum Miji with their claws outstretched and jaws gaping wide, their sharp canine teeth glinting in the twilight.

Seeing them approach, he said hurriedly, ‘No, no. Not at all. I am not tired.’

Kum Miji resumed playing the kum lieng. His fingers flew over the string with a speed born out of desperation and fear. He played so fast that even the string snapped. His heart skipped a beat. Feigning the need to roll tobacco for a smoke again, he hurriedly mended the string. When it broke again, he tied it together again and continued playing. Hours passed in this gruelling rhythm. Kum Miji kept on playing the instrument, and the wild beasts did not falter or stop even for a while. A time came when he could no longer mend the string as there were already too many knots in it. And having poured every melody, every lesson, every ounce of skill he had into the battle, he was now left with just one more song.

This song was his last hope of survival. He cleared his throat and sang with all his might:

Li-eng li-eng li-eng
Eng engli! Eng engli
Sweet is the maize from the hills
Do you want maize till your tummy fills?
If you want, I can fetch you still.

O Tisso, sway your hips
Till you trip, till you slip
Till you stumble in the eclipse
In the mouth of the cave
That looks like a dolmen’s lip
Strange how the two can seem alike
So, sway your hip
Till you trip, you trip in a dream
You sway your hips
Till you trip, till you slip.

 As soon as Kum Miji finished his final song, the string of his kum lieng also snapped with a final, sharp twang. And then, with a loud thud, the two beasts fell from the tree branches. Their bodies hit the rough forest floor. They cried writhing in pain; their howls and growls echoed through the hills before gradually becoming silent. Motionless at last, they lay there with the life draining from them. Kum Miji heaved a sigh of relief as he watched the beasts breathe their last. He thought to himself that he should not stay a minute longer in Tisso Anglong. He went down on his knees to collect his scattered belongings – the bamboo fowl basket, the machete and his beloved jamborong. Finally, he picked up his most treasured kum lieng, brought it close to his face, and touched it with his forehead. He whispered a quiet prayer seeking forgiveness under his breath, and without giving it a second thought, he flung his arm wide and hurled the kum lieng into the depths of darkness below. The cliff was deep, shrouded in dense forest. One could not hear when something was dropped from the top; the forest cushioned the sound. Yet, the act of throwing away his most cherished possession weighed heavily on his heart.

Kum Miji did not spend another moment on the cursed hill. He ran as fast as he could. He ran straight home to his village. Not looking back even once at Tisso Anglong, leaving behind the peril he had just survived. He ran so swiftly that even his rikong, the loincloth that he wore like all other old Karbi men, was flying in the air. Anyone who witnessed this scene would surely have mistaken it for a snake gliding in the air. The poho that covered his hair flew in the opposite direction. But he was not at all bothered; he just wanted to reach somewhere safe first. He realized that he had lost his poho only when the cold wind touched his scalp softly through his hair.

Upon reaching home, with the purest elements of fire and water as witnesses, he immediately took a solemn oath to never again touch the kum lieng, to never again to play its music to the world. He laid a curse upon his own clan, the Ingti Hensek, that no one from this clan would ever play this instrument, now or in the generations to come.

For who knew what fate it might summon? Or whose pair of ears it might lure? Who knew who else the instrument might attract the next time?